


home

by stover



Series: rest your weary bones [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Canon Continuation, Homecoming, Mute Link, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stover/pseuds/stover
Summary: Link returns to Ordona after years of travel. He hears someone practicing outside his home and can't think of anyone who would bother to come out this far, this early in the morning.





	home

**Author's Note:**

> not edited because idgaf :V

Link arrives at dusk. He’s weary from travel, as all men are, but feels his heart soar upon the first sighting of home. His home, his own home, the place he was born in and learned to be a man; the place where hefty pumpkins are turned to soup, bread, and ale, and where blankets of sweet grass rest at the great tree by the winding road—the road to the spring and to Faron Woods. 

This is where he is, in this narrow road, the one so quiet and still at the fall of night.

Owls watch from their perch overhead as crickets chirrup and sing.  Dusk brings with it nothing but slumber, its touch soft and gentle on hard-worked limbs and dusty eyes, and coaxes to sleep with the deep orange hues of twilight, colors bruising to night as the setting sun darkens to the black of space and the white of stars.

He stops Epona in the grass, releases her reigns so she can roam free. It’s night and time for her to rest, and he knows she will stay the night with him, but only the night;  he knows how she will be gone when the morning comes, for the spring will call after her and she will run into its warm, welcoming waters. He strokes her neck, feeding fistfuls of sweet grass into her waiting mouth, her ears flicking with pleasure as her strong teeth pull and grind and chew at the familiar taste of home. He lets her graze and hangs her reigns on the great tree, and then he climbs up home.

Everything is as he’s left it, long ago, but he’s surprised that hardly anything is dusty. Illia, he thinks, and he longs to see her again, if only to see how she’s become. In letters, she’s written how much the town has changed since he’s gone away, and of how the boys—now young men—have made bold reaches for the outside world. He longs to see them, too, to see how they’ve grown. 

But for now, he longs to sleep in his own bed, in his own home; he longs for a comfort he has not had since he first left, all those years ago.

 

* * *

 

The day has just begun, but already the sun is strong. Warmth sinks into his skin, chasing away the morning chill he’s grown used to. Ordona is a different place to lay his head in than the vast, grassy fields in Hyrule.

Outside, he hears the muted thwacking of something hitting against what sounds thick and soft. He listens for a while longer, trained ears picking up the sharp noise of a wooden sword swinging into the tunic of ram-skin hide he’s hung out to dry. It’s Talo, he thinks, playing with his old, wooden sword. He wants to tell him to stop, so as not to bring any more damage to the worn tunic, but he knows it doesn’t matter anyway. He won’t need it  again ; he’s a cattle-hand no more.

Still, he rises. He finds the blankets tossed to the floor and picks them up, folding them carefully atop his bed. He changes quickly, throwing on a linen shirt and pulling the woolen stockings up his legs before shoving them into linen pants. His boots, having been cleaned last night, are the last to be worn. The green tunic and cap he leaves untouched as he exits his home to greet the children no doubt waiting for him outside.

There are no children; only a young man stands where there should be the young lads and lady from Ordon, and there is a wooden sword in the man’s hand. It’s his wooden sword, the very one he thought he’d wake to see Talo using, and he’s not sure if he should leave this man alone or call for his attention.

He does neither, because the young man stops  suddenly and turns around. “Link!” he cries, sending him into a stunned silence, because the man is not just any man—it’s Colin.

What used to be a demure little boy with careful eyes was now a broad-shouldered, lean man with the kindest of smiles and the brightest of eyes. His gait was quick despite the sturdiness in his stride, as were all of Ordona’s cattle-hands—though, he himself seemed never to have inherited that trait despite having lived here all his life. 

Colin wears a new tunic, made from a soft fabric of blue with the symbols of Ordona province embroidered in white and yellow thread. His hair is longer, braided down his back, and a red feather flies down the length of his back along with it, tied artfully with beaded string. It looks familiar in design.

“I was hoping to see you before you left.” Colin speaks as if he were running short on time, as if the air left too quickly from his lungs. “I heard you’d arrived, but I didn’t imagine you’d stay the night. Beth said you wouldn’t stay — that you were too busy to stay — but I  _ knew—  _ I knew you’d stay.”

He watches Colin’s cheeks redden with each hurried word tumbling from his lips, and feels himself smiling fondly once Colin finishes speaking. He watches as the bright color in Colin’s eyes turns all the more vibrant as they look at each other in comforting silence, their quiet gazes, warm and caring, still familiar enough to convey what was needed.

Link turns away only to look back home—at his home, his first home; the only place he can truly call home. Beside him, Link feels Colin turning to follow his gaze. When he speaks next, the words come quietly, and soft. 

“What Father says is true, then. Not even all the riches of Hyrule can compare to the place you first call home.”

Link turns back to look at Colin.  There is fondness on the boy’s face—on the young man’s face, rather. Link finds it charming to see how much like his father he has grown in such time. There was always a strength to Rusl’s smile, no matter how gentle or kind it were; the strength of hope and promise, and it is that strength he sees in Colin, too.

Carefully, Link reaches out with a hand, settling it on Colin’s shoulder. He, too, gives him a warm smile, or what he thinks is a warm smile; the fields of Hyrule can change many things, and the haggard, weary faces of some Hyrule Castle soldiers is one of many things he wishes to avoid. He is reassured when Colin turns toward him, smile brightening his eyes, and helps Link close the distance between them.

Their embrace is long overdue; the last they’ve seen each other was many years ago. Link remembers the last time he’s given Colin such an embrace—the boy was still small, though changed with the harrow demands of their journey. He remembers Colin’s soft hair, barely reaching his chin. Now, Colin’s cheek is pressed into the side of his neck, and his chest is warm against his own.

“It’s good to have you back,” Colin says quietly, tightening his hold. “Welcome home.”

Link closes his eyes and breathes in, the scent of the sun and of straw and the sweet grass of Ordona filling his lungs.

Link leans his cheek against Colin’s hair and smiles. 


End file.
